Ex
by Ashplosion
Summary: Sam sat angrily sparking the blue lighter in her left hand. My heart pooled in my lungs. She'd been silent for 15 minutes. Finally, I heard her draw a breath. "I'm just very disappointed, Cupcake."
1. Busted

**Author's notes:** I am fully aware that this is an out-of-character thing for Carly to do. It was an out-of-character habit for me to pick up, but three years later, I still do it. This is written as a confidence boost to help myself quit. A semi-plausible explanation as to why Carly started (which is actually why I started) is on the way.

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><p>Sam sat angrily sparking the blue lighter in her left hand. My heart pooled in my lungs. She'd been silent for 15 minutes. Finally, I heard her draw a breath. "I'm just very disappointed, Cupcake." I closed my eyes. The words stung far worse than I'd anticipated. "I thought you'd quit smoking."<p>

We both knew she was far more upset about the lie than about my continued smoking. I'd told her weeks ago I had quit, and she beamed proudly. I really had quit at that point, but the stress of finals caught up to me, and I instinctively found myself trying to light a pen. I bought a pack 20 minutes later. Being a junior in college, especially as an accounting major, was rough. I'd had a world of trouble with Accounting 320, and Business Calculus in the same term had nearly killed me. I'd managed to walk away with As, but now I was dealing with Sam's disappointment in me. This moment was far worse than my near-panic attack on question 18 of the Accounting 320 final.

I wasn't sure what to say or do. We sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment more before I began. "Sam, I did quit. I started again last week." The blonde sighed and shifted her weight from one side of her chair to the other. Her left leg curled and she sat on the back of her foot. Our apartment was strangely quiet.

"I wish you'd told me you relapsed, Carly." I blinked.

Relapsed. Leave it to Sam to draw parallels between my smoking and her mother's drinking. "Do not," I started bitterly, "make me feel like you're comparing me to your mother." Her eyes widened slightly. "Relapsed," I muttered coldly under my breath. My girlfriend threw the lighter on our coffee table.

"It's the same damn thing, Carly!" I rose to my feet and thrust an accusing finger at her, all logical thought being replaced by anger.

"The hell it is, Sam! Have I ever smoked a cigarette and hit you? No. Have I ever smoked a cigarette and crashed my car? No! And not once have I ever failed to cover my part of the bills or go grocery shopping because I bought cigarettes instead!" I hadn't really intended to yell at her, but I felt guilty the instant the pain registered on her face. I sat on the arm of the chair she was in and wrapped my arms around her head. "Sam, I love you, but I'm human. I know you're disappointed, but I make mistakes. I have to deal with those mistakes as a person, and you have to deal with them as my lover. You're right. It is an addiction, and I wish I hadn't started. But Honey, me slipping in a couple of cigarettes a day is no where near what you dealt with when we were in high school."

"I know... I'm sorry, Carls. It just felt like you lied to me, y'know?"

"I kind of did, Baby. I really did quit. I just didn't want to upset you by telling you I started again a week later." Sam sighed and leaned into my chest. "We'll come up with a better quitting strategy tomorrow, okay?" She nodded slowly and looked up at me.

"I love you, Cupcake." I smiled. "Now go brush your teeth. Mamma wants to tap that but not with gross menthol breath." I started laughing and pushed her off me. "No more than one?" I sighed softly and nodded, then ankle swore, then kissed her cheek. She sauntered off to our bedroom as I took one-and-only-one cigarette out of the box and grabbed my jacket.

* * *

><p>The freezing Seattle air reminded me of the many comments smokers had made to me during the winters over the two years since I'd started. They were always thing like, "this weather makes me want to quit," or "you know we're either crazy or addicted when we're smoking with snow on the ground." I laughed slightly as I remembered Spencer catching me for the first time.<p>

Sam and I hadn't yet found jobs to afford our own place, so she had moved in with us at the close of our freshman year at Washington State. We had started dating a few weeks prior, after many years of convincing ourselves we were straight.

Honestly, I am straight. Sam seems to be the exception, though. I guess love and sexual orientation are two completely different things, although all the feelings I have for her... well, let's just say I do enjoy sex with Sam (a lot) because of those feelings (and her talent with her tongue), but I've never been attracted to another woman.

I took another hit from my cigarette and watched my neighbor take his dog out. Where was I? Oh, yes. The first time Spencer caught me smoking. He had slipped onto the fire escape, much like I had done. He'd started dating T-Bo's cousin a few months before, and I can't even tell you how weird that was. I was staring out over the Seattle skyline when the frustrated flicking of his lighter startled me. "Carly, what are you-OHMYGODYOU'RESMOKING!" I moved my cigarette from his sight defensively, but the damage was done. He was mid-rant before I cut him off.

"Spencer, you're smoking too. I'm 19. I don't smoke all the time. And if you don't speak of this, I won't tell Marsha." Yeah, leave it to me to blackmail my brother. He had dropped it, though. From that night on, I partook in my guilty sin on the roof.

* * *

><p>I flicked an ash and sighed as my neighbor scolded his dog for pooping on the sidewalk. I had to figure out a way to make everything right with Sam. She had been so hurt when she found out. I was always the golden child, the one no one would've anticipated with a smoking habit. I rubbed the cherry off and tossed the butt into the can. I'd figure it out tomorrow. Right now, I had a toothbrush and horny blonde waiting on me. The thought had me giggling and up the stairs in an instant, leaving my neighbor and his dog to wonder what was up with the closet smoker in the boring business casual accountant's clothes.<p> 


	2. Invited

Sam took my favorite lighter. I'm irritated, but I understand, I guess. My instructor passed by and shook his head. He lit his own cigarette before mercifully holding out his lighter. I accepted gratefully. Spring classes were in full swing, and I was trying hard to get a jump on the homework before I was bogged down and stressed out of my mind. Still, the cold Seattle weather made it feel like Winter had never ended. "You never struck me as a smoker, Ms. Shay." I shrugged.

"I started freshman year. I'm actually trying to quit now. My girlfriend is pretty pissed off that I smoke."

"I see, I see. My partner isn't happy either. He beat the addiction four years ago, and he's been pushing me to do the same. Why did a pretty young lady like you start smoking, anyway?"

"I suffered some mild electric shock to one of my legs right after high school. It fried the fatty sheaths around the nerves in my leg, but it didn't damage the nerves themselves. The doctor prescribed vicodin for pain, but after a few months, I had an addiction. He took it away, and my friend Wendy finally got tired of listening to me complain and shoved a cigarette in my hand. I regret accepting it."

"I understand. At least you have more of a reason than 'it was the guy thing to do.' I was so afraid of being gay that I did anything I could do to make myself more 'macho.' I started smoking and drinking a lot with the guys. I almost failed out of college after two quarters of intense partying." I looked at the older man thoughtfully. I hadn't really had a "gay role model" to look up to, but I had grown to consider him as a mentor in the last two years. I'd had a class with him every quarter, including summers, since I started Washington State. He grinned back.

"What's your girlfriend like?" I shifted my cigarette to my other hand and pulled my wallet out of my bookbag. A photo of us, taken the summer before, was my favorite. We were sitting by the beach in northwest Washington, overlooking some rocks. Her arm was around my shoulders, and my hand rested gently on her knee. We didn't even know Spencer had taken it until weeks later, when he remembered to develop his film. My instructor smiled appreciatively.

"You're a beautiful couple. How long have you been together?"

"About two years."

"What's her name?"

"Sam." It seemed absurd, but the large man, whom I'm pretty sure was a former college football linebacker, giggled.

"My partner's name is Sam. I'm guessing she's Samantha rather than Samuel, though." I nodded and he smiled. About the same time, we each pulled another cigarette out and used the smoldering remains of the previous ones to light them. "Monkey fucking," I think Wendy had once called it. I tried to avoid swearing most of the time, so I didn't really call it anything. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I stamped my old butt out and did the same. "How did you wind up in accounting, Carly? Francine Briggs is my sister-in-law, and she told me you hated math when I described my best student."

"In senior year, it was either advanced physics or personal accounting. Ms. Briggs wasn't teaching accounting, so I signed up for that. I fell in love with it. It's not like math, it's more like…" I trailed off, not sure how to continue. He nodded and finished for me.

"Dealing with figures. It's always different when it's money. Some of the best accountants I've ever seen failed high school math several times."

"Really?" I subconsciously rubbed my left leg and sat down on the steps leading to the business building. The damage had almost healed itself, but I still had pain occasionally.

"Yeah. You're good at it, Carly. I really hope you don't plan on stopping at your undergrad. You have potential to write an amazing thesis as a grad student. You might very well be the next person to turn financial theory on its head." I laughed, not expecting the man's kind words.

"I don't know about being a genius or anything, but I do love it. I'm thinking I'll probably continue on, but at a slower pace. Accounting 320 almost killed me last quarter."

"I saw your little spell during the final. Relax. You're an excellent student. Have you considered taking my tax prep certificate program? It's not through WSU, but the credits transfer from the community college."

"I didn't know anything about it."

"Why don't you come to the Accounting Club this week? I'm the faculty advisor, and I'll be talking about it there. We're also doing a joint presentation with Finance Club about the benefits of minoring in a foreign language."

"That sounds good. Where is it?"

"It's in the classroom that 320 was in," he chuckled. We both put out our cigarettes and walked into the building. "It's Wednesday at 7." I nodded and opened the stairwell door for him. "By the way… The secret to quitting? You have to really want to quit. Not for anyone but you. I have no desire to quit, and that's why I'm still a smoker. Do you really want to quit for you, or for Sam?" I thought about it a minute.

"I want to quit for me. I'm sick of having asthma attacks again. I didn't have an asthma attack from the ages of 7 until I'd been smoking about a year. I can't go a week without an asthma attack now. I'm sick of not being able to breathe. I'm sick of scrapping up change for cigarettes, I'm tired of freezing when I go out to smoke, and I'm sick of the stress between me and Sam." He smiled.

"Now you figure out when and why you smoke, and change those things. I can do it. I know how to quit. I just don't want to quit yet. It's how Sam quit. Now, if you really want to quit, do it and make Sam proud." I laughed and dropped my bag on the desk in the front as we walked into the classroom.

"Sam and Sam. That's going to throw me off every time. How about you and Sam have dinner with me and Sam sometime?"

"Sounds delightful. If you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach." He winked and pulled down the projection screen. "Good morning class. Accounting 331 is now in session."


	3. Angered

I hit my inhaler and held my breath as long as I could. This was ridiculous. I'd had four asthma attacks this week, with two of those being today alone. My favorite instructor rested his hand sadly on my shoulder.

"I thought you'd decided to quit, Ms. Shay." I coughed and sputtered a moment before looking at him.

"I'm ready. I'm sick of this. I like breathing a lot more than I like smoking," I growled lowly as I pulled my pack of cigarettes out of my bag. He looked at the cigarette in his hand, an unfiltered Lucky Strike. He'd let me bum one in the past, and I switched brands immediately. Most people would never guess the bubbly host of iCarly would smoke, let alone smoke unfiltered cigarettes.

"Let's do this," he said quietly. I looked at him in confusion before the determination registered. He wanted to quit too. He wanted to quit with me. "I'm done too." He dropped the cigarette into the butt receptacle by the door. "Are you joining me?"

I stared pensively at the pack of cigarettes in my hand. My life had been ruled for the better part of four years by these things. It felt odd. I knew the difference between filtered and unfiltered, but I didn't know the difference between lights, hard or soft packs, "kings" or "hundreds," or any of that stuff they asked me every time I tried to buy a pack. I'd eventually stuck with my Camel Menthols and one gas station. They quit asking after a while, until I switched brands. I looked back at him.

The sun shone in his white hair, giving him a sort of halo. The resolve in his face was stronger than any I'd ever seen before. "Carly?"

I couldn't explain the anger I felt in that moment. I wanted my life back, and I wanted it now. My fist tightened around the package and I threw it at the nearest garbage can, missing by nearly a foot. He picked it up and reinforced my resolve by throwing it directly into the trash can. "I'm with you."

* * *

><p>My fingers drummed a pattern on the dinner table. "Cupcake, what's wrong?" I'd already resolved not to tell Sam for a few days, just in case I broke down again.<p>

"Nothing; I'm fine." She eyed me warily. My love was probably making the assumption I was having a nic fit and would be going downstairs soon. It had been two days since my final battle with tobacco, and my resolve was just as strong as ever. Truth be told, I was nic fitting like crazy. The other side of that truth, though, was my determination to be in control of things again. What Carly Shay wants, Carly Shay gets.

* * *

><p>"Cupcake, we need to talk."<p>

"What's wrong?" Sam sat down next to me and rested a hand on my thigh. I'd been two weeks without cigarettes, and the cravings came and went. I had, however, for the most part, beaten them. Dr. Briggs had been with me every step of the way, just as antsy, rude, and short-tempered as I had been.

"I feel like we're drifting apart, Honey. You're always cranky and never want to tell me what's going on. I'm afraid I'm losing you." I looked at her suddenly, startled. My movement seemed to startle her.

"Sam, there's nothing going on," I said through clenched jaw.

"You're grinding your teeth in your sleep and haven't started a conversation with me in two weeks." I laced my fingers through hers. "You haven't had sex with me in three weeks. I…" She trailed off and looked at the wall. No matter how long we'd been together, she still had trouble discussing her feelings. I couldn't blame her. I'd been horrible lately.

"Sam, there is something going on that I didn't want to tell you about." She looked at me, eyes huge. "I stopped smoking. For real this time." The implications of what I said sank through her and finally, finally, a grin surfaced. "I didn't tell you because I was afraid I'd start up again and hurt you again."

"Carls… you mean it?"

"Yep. I got Dr. Briggs to quit with me. He's been acting pretty nasty toward his boyfriend too. Sam, I'm sorry. The cravings are still there, and Dr. Briggs says it'll take a month or so to fully pass. It's rough, but I feel like we can make it through anything." I got a tight, wordless hug in response. She let a single tear slip from her eye, and I kissed it away. "I love you. Let me spend the night showing you that," I said with a smile as I laced my fingers through hers and led her toward the bedroom.


End file.
